


Reach Out (I'll Be There)

by PryingAa



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PryingAa/pseuds/PryingAa
Summary: Clarke Griffin is running for her life, she's being tracked by the most prestigious group of investigators in the country after the mysterious deaths of her best friend and her father. Clarke narrowly evades capture as she makes her way across the continental U.S. in search of stability, never getting to stay in one place for too long in fear of being found. When she ends up stranded in northern Montana she has no other choice but to stay put and hide for as long as she can.Bellamy Blake is stagnant, standing still. The monotony of day to day life in Arkadia has nearly driven him insane, in such a quaint town the only action he gets as a lead detective is breaking up bar fights and writing speeding tickets. If it wasn't for his baby sister Octavia, he would have ran long ago. What Bellamy doesn't see coming, is the most wanted girl in America strolling into his life, and turning everything upside down.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Lincoln, Raven Reyes/Miles Ezekiel Shaw
Comments: 10
Kudos: 71





	1. I've Been Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to yet another world of Bellarke I am delving into! This fic is actually inspired by "Lose You Too" by @eyessharpweaponshot 
> 
> I absolutely loved that fic, and after binging the entire thing in less than 2 days I had a vivid dream that brought me to this story. Absolutely go check out their fic first it is absolutely incredible. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title is based on the song "I've Been Everywhere" by Johnny Cash.
> 
> Index of terms:
> 
> Bull: a railroad officer  
> Flip: To board a moving train  
> Hotshot: A priority rail, makes few stops and travels faster than average freight.  
> On the fly: Jumping a moving train

Clarke is on the run again, just narrowly escaping them this time. Staying in cities is obviously becoming too risky, she thought she could blend into the background and stay inconspicuous, but all the video surveillance proved to be her downfall. Time and time again, Los Angeles, Sacramento, Vegas, Albuquerque, Austin, Little Rock, New Orleans, Atlanta, Charlotte, she was always snuffed out.

With a sigh, Clarke drops her pack and takes a seat on the train car. It jolts and lurches with the momentum of the train and Clarke struggles to get comfortable until she puts her backpack behind her, propping up her back like a pillow. She watches the Santa Fe skyline breeze past as the tracks carry her far away from civilization.

Clarke hopes she was able to cover her tracks enough to buy herself some more time. She burned another one of her covers, but at least she got out when she did, another hour and she would have been captured for sure. She shudders, remembering the face of Diana Sydney’s men, as they had cornered her in Nashville just 2 months prior. As far as Clarke could remember, she thought she had been on the road for nearly 8 months now. It had been quite a while since she had a close call like she did earlier today. With cities out of the question, Clarke began to strategize about where her next location should be. She tried to keep her hiding places as random as possible, sometimes even shutting her eyes and pointing at a random spot on her map.

This time around Clarke had simply grabbed the first train she saw headed out of town, unfortunately, it had been a small locomotive headed back East, which wasn’t such a good idea for Clarke, as she was trying to keep as much distance from D.C. as possible. As soon as it had slowed near the station in Santa Fe, Clarke had traded it for a hot-shot freighter headed north.

After inspecting a few of the cargo containers, she saw a couple were slated for drop off in Salt Lake City, Utah. Clarke considered this and consulted her map, the area northwest of the capital city would be a mix between a suburb and rural backwoods, but also very low-key. Might be the perfect spot to lay low for a minute, just to catch her breath. She knew it would easily be another 10 hours before she could expect anything to change. There wasn’t a whole lot of anything between here and Utah, just desert wasteland, but at least Clarke wouldn’t get rained on like she had all the way from Tennesse to Oklahoma.

Clarke sighed again, slipping her map back into her bag, and then she fumbled around looking for the snacks she had packed hastily before fleeing. There was a sleeve of Ritz Crackers around in there somewhere, along with her most prized possession, Cheeze Whiz. Unironically, it had become Clarke’s favorite train-hopping snack. Now seemed as good of a time as any to celebrate so Clarke savored what little she had left, deciding to get more as soon as she made it to SLC.

The midday sun turned to dusk, and then to pitch black as Clarke settled into her train car for the night. Once she got used to the noise, it actually wasn’t half bad. She began to fade off into sleep, content that she would be safe on such a fast-moving freight, making it impossible for anybody else to successfully jump aboard. These days Clarke found that she could only really get a good night’s rest if she was train hopping like this. Her last thoughts as she drifted to sleep were of mild contentment and relief that she had made it another day.

* * *

Clarke jolted awake, disoriented from sleep and stiff from sleeping somewhat sitting up. Her eyes bulged when she took in the bright sky above her.

“Shit” she whispered into the wind whipping by the train car. By the look of the sun in the sky, it was nearly 10 or 11 in the morning. Clarke put her head in her hands and tried to rub the sleep away, hoping this was a terrible dream.

How had she possibly slept through the changeover? She supposes that’s what she deserves for running on 3 hours of sleep nearly every day. The body keeps score after all. She stands and stretches, trying to reassess her game plan and find out where on Earth she may have ended up. The chill in the air tells her she’s surely made it north alright, but where exactly she doesn’t have a clue. Gazing out of the open train car all she can see is lush fields blurring past, and the crystal clear blue sky.

Clarke retrieves her map from the side of her bag and unfolds it. She considers that the train must have stopped in Salt Lake to unload, but she had no idea how long it was stationed. Hell, she’s lucky that a bull didn’t find her passed out near the back of the train during the rail yard inspection. That’s an easy way to get arrested, where she’d be right where Diana wants her. Clarke shudders at the thought, or maybe at the bitter cold wind outside, and then she tightens the heavy-duty jacket around her. It had been miserable to wear in the desert of New Mexico, but Clarke was beyond grateful now. She didn’t have any cold-weather clothes, and she was pretty sure it was approaching September. Clarke was also finally running low on cash, even though she had lived painfully frugally, the money could only stretch so far. Eight months on a little under four grand was impressive, but now she needed to think of the future, and how she was going to scrounge up enough to get by until she could think of a more permanent solution.

First things first, Clarke began to carefully scale the train cars, looking for any sort of label on the cargo that would explain where it was headed. Clarke could see they were all various machine parts, to what she didn’t know, but they were all left blank other than a description of its contents. Clarke grunted in frustration, she was even more pissed for oversleeping and stranding herself god knows where.

As Clarke quickly turned away to head back to her empty train car she almost missed the sight of a woman that was nestled between two of the machine boxes, silently watching Clarke, she appeared to be in her early sixties, and she looked the part of a rugged hopper, but she didn’t seem like she intended any harm to Clarke. It didn’t stop Clarke from backing away slowly, nearly missing her footing on the platform connecting the train cars. The woman put her hands up in a show of peace, and she tilted her head to the side, gesturing to the empty spot next to another stack of boxes. Clarke only had limited experience with the fellow hobos that caught the rails, most of them were dangerous, and with her being a woman, all alone, she didn’t take any chances. This woman, however, seemed to also be alone, and she frankly looked too feeble to even catch the train. Clarke let her intuition guide her for once, and sat down a few feet from the woman, and nodded politely.

The older woman smiled again, and her graying hair was heald up in a ponytail. She leaned in closer to Clarke and nodded towards the cargo.

“Looking for something in particular?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the train.

“Just a label to see where the final destination is” Clarke answered honestly.

The woman nodded again, considering Clarke’s words, “Final stop is Alberta Canada, but there should be a break coming up outside of Polson here in the next hour.

Clarke froze in her spot. Canada? Oh fuck, she had really gotten herself in it now. She knew if the train were going to cross over the border it would be inspected thoroughly by customs, and Clarke would surely be caught and detained. Her breath caught in her throat and she tried to find her sense, but she was caught in a panic. The woman must have sensed Clarke’s unease because she smiled and brought her hand up to rub her chin thoughtfully.

“So was Alberta not your first pick then?” and when Clarke looked up she saw the woman smiling.

Clarke shook her head, not knowing how much to give away. “I was planning on flipping around Salt Lake City late last night.”

The woman quirked a brow, “Quite a long ways from home for you then… that’s where I hopped on. We departed around 1 a.m. this morning. We’re nearly nine hours from there by now, just entered Montana.”

 _ **MONTANA!?!?**_ , Clarke’s mind screams. She reaches up and tangles her fingers in her hair to try to soothe herself, but her fingers just get caught in all the knots that have developed since she’s on day 3 without a shower.

She continues on, either not noticing Clarke’s anxiety spike, or not caring, “Yep. One last stop before they enter Canada, but when they go through Polson, they’ll take a short break to let some of the crew off. That’ll be your chance.”

Clarke nods, trying to come to terms with all this. There’s no other option, she’ll have to make the jump there and then reassess how to get back down south.

Clarke begins to ask, but the woman must know where she’s going with all this, “I know the area pretty well, I spend my time sleuthing back and forth from Colorado to Manitoba. Polson isn’t a bad place, there’s a truck stop about 8 miles north in a town called Arkadia, it’s not a bad place to lay low until a freighter passes back through.”

Clarke nods thoughtfully, mapping it all out in her mind, and overwhelming gratefulness swells inside her heart, she’s never had anybody she was riding rails with try to help her. Tears well up, and when she looks back to the woman she finds she doesn’t even know what to say.

“T-Thank you, really. I would have been in rough shape without your help.” Clarke admits.

The woman waves her hand dismissively as if she hasn’t just saved Clarke’s life in a major way or something. “Gotta look out for each other” is all she says. Clarke nods and reaches into her pack, procuring a couple of apples she had packed away, and her last candy bar. She offers it up to the woman, whose eyes light up when she sees them, but she goes to wave her hand again.

“No, please take them. The apples will go bad.” Clarke pleads. The woman accepts, obviously her hunger winning out. After she takes the apples and refuses the candy bar she extends her hand in greeting, “What’s your name, rookie?”

Clarke takes her hand easily and genuinely smiles, “Clarke” and it feels so good to say her real name after so many months of living a lie. The woman nods, smiling slightly as well, “Name’s Abby, glad I could help.”

Clarke freezes temporarily at the name, but recovers quickly, hoping she didn’t notice. Her mind is like a live wire, searching for the threat she knows is obviously not there. It’s just a name, relax, she thinks.

They ride the last twenty minutes to Polson in silence, but it’s overall very comfortable. Clarke watches out the sliding door of the train car, thinking of how she’s never been to this side of the country before, it will be interesting for the brief time she’s here. She tries to think of it as an adventure, but she still can’t help kicking herself for being so careless in missing her stop in the first place.

The train starts to slow, and Clarke feels the adrenaline she always gets when she must disembark. She stands and secures her bag, and she turns to look at Abby, who has already begun digging into one of the apples Clarke gave her.

A question slips out before Clarke can stop herself, “how are you going to make it through the border inspection?”

The woman, Abby, chuckles quietly, and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, “won’t be a problem, I’ve done it hundreds of times before.”

Clarke smiles knowingly, that doesn’t surprise her. The sound of the train brakes fills the cabin and Abby gestures to the open train car door, letting Clarke know it’s time.

Clarke grimaces, bracing herself for arguably the worst part of her voyage. She turns away from Abby, but not before she hears her say, “May we meet again” over the sound of the squealing breaks. Clarke nods solemnly, “May we meet again” and then she turns, squares her feet on the frame of the door, and leaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read this!! I hope to post updates once every two weeks, so bookmark this fic if you want to be updated whenever I upload!


	2. Like A Rolling Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is aptly named after the song "Like A Rolling Stone" by Bob Dylan. Enjoy!
> 
> Index of terms unique to the vagabond lifestyle:
> 
> Scab: A bum who stays/works in a place for an extended amount of time  
> Flip/Flipping: Jumping from a moving train.  
> Flop: A place to sleep, by extension, "flophouse", a cheap hotel  
> Jungle: An area off a railroad where hobos camp and congregate.  
> Padding the hoof: To travel by foot (typically a long-distance).  
> Road stake: The small reserve amount of money a hobo may keep in case of an emergency.  
> Beachcomber: A hobo who hangs around docks or seaports

The crunch of gravel on Clarke's knees sends a jolt of electricity through her entire body. It wasn't her most graceful landing, but it's not like she broke anything either, so she's decided to call it a win. Clarke dusts herself off and starts walking away from the tracks towards the road about a hundred yards away. The train blazes past her headed north, and after a minute that is gone as well, and Clarke is left completely alone. The expressway is completely disserted except for a couple of fenced-in farms scattered on the sides of the four-lane road. Clarke keeps to the side, hugging the wire fence as she makes the long 7-mile trek to the truck stop.

Clarke hums as she walks, Bob Dylan sounds quite perfect for the country roads she is padding the hoof down for the next few hours. As she walks she realizes just how tired she is, her oversleeping on the train was simply her body trying to catch up on some severely needed rest. Clarke decides that she'll make it a priority to catch an entire night of rest, no matter what it takes. She finds she is also unbelievably thirsty, so she grabs her pack and swings it around to grab her jug. It's nearly empty since she was on the rails so long, she polishes off the rest of the jug and returns it to her bag. While she's at it, she checks the front compartment for her road stake, to see how much cash she's got left, and there's only a measly 64 bucks. Minus 10 for the shower, a couple more to stock up on snacks and toiletries, and then just enough to grab a tent to pitch somewhere in the Montana wilderness. She's going to need to hold out here a little while, and unfortunately for her, this wasn't a touristy area where she could just bum it in a hostel and pick up gigs now and then to stay fed. She had no idea the first place to look for steady employment, up until now she had avoided being a scab, preferring to stay more nomadic as an added precaution.

She knows they must already be looking for her, the fact that she has evaded them this long must be starting to get to Sydney, that's why she's been sending more and more men each time. Clarke smirks at that, she loves the idea of wasting all of Eligius' precious horde of money. She wishes she had burned the place to the ground before she had hit the road.

The anger is burning hot behind her eyes, and she tries not to get herself worked up, but it's so hard once she's opened the door. An image flashed behind her eyes, a lifeless Wells sitting on the floor, a single gunshot wound seeping with blood in the middle of his forehead. Then, of course, her father, peacefully leaning against the door to his lab at Eligiius Corp. Clarke gasps, desperate to draw air into her lungs because it feels as though they are collapsing. She breaks down, allowing herself to truly cry. Now is as good of a time as any. She rests against a telephone pole on the side of the road and sobs. 

She's grieving not just their deaths but also her last meeting with them. The last time she saw her father alive she had been fighting with him over the release of the tape. Jake had been so determined to release it, pleading with her to understand, he was thinking of all of the lives impacted by the crimes Diana and Thelonious had committed. Clarke sobs as she remembers running from his lab with the copy of the tape in the pocket of her jeans.

Then Wells reappears, they were standing on the landing outside of the Jaha home. Stiff and tense, Clarke had tears streaming down her face. Wells was the only person she had told about the tape, and about the contents within it. When her father turned up dead of an 'overdose' Clarke knew for sure that Wells had gone to his father about it. She pointed her finger accusingly as she threw insults at him.

"His death is on YOU" she spat.

"Clarke no, I-" Wells pleaded.

"I thought I could trust you, you were the only one I could trust, and now he's gone" Clarke sniffed, tears returning, "he's gone..."

Wells hung his head, surrendering, "Clarke... I, I didn't do whatever it is you think I did but listen to me, you need to be careful, you need to be safe, they could be coming after you next."

Clarke laughed humourlessly and turned away from him. Wells stepped forward and thrust a manilla envelope at her, stuffed to the brim. Clarke moved away from him, disgusted by his proximity. 

Wells sniffed, his voice hoarse, "Take it, Clarke please."

Clarke furrowed her brow, nothing was making any sense, but her hand reached out mechanically and gripped the envelope.

"Get out of here," Wells said, his voice breaking. 

Clarke didn't need to be told twice, she turned quickly on her heel and stalked back to her Rover, not even offering him a backward glance. She had driven only a mere twenty minutes before curiosity took over and she reached into the envelope. She found multiple I.D.s and passports all with different names, but all with the same picture of her. There was a wad of bills, totaling five grand, and a note from Wells, telling her to be safe and that he loved her no matter what. 

Clarke's thoughts ground to a halt, and she found herself whipping the car around in a quick u-turn and headed back towards the Jaha house. When she arrived she ran up to his room, seeking to make sense of all that was going on, and that's where she found him, the blood hadn't even dried yet.

The shock alone propelled her back out of the house, into her car, and as far away from D.C. as she could get.

* * *

A loud 18 wheeler truck blazed past Clarke on the freeway, distracting her from her traumatic flashback. She sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her dirty shirt sleeve, and then continued walking.

She didn't often allow herself to think of back then, it was just too painful, too many ghosts. The realization that her mother had been the one to have her father and Wells killed was bone-chilling. When the private seekers hired by Diana had turned up in Raleigh where she had been hiding, Clarke realized she needed to ditch her car and find another way out. Taking a Greyhound bus to Nashville had sounded safe at first, but she was easily tracked by video surveillance at the station, and men were waiting for her when she arrived just a brief ten hours later.

Once Clarke had managed to lose them she stumbled upon a jungle of freighthoppers, sitting around a fire talking animatedly. They welcomed Clarke in and taught her everything she knows. She wouldn't be alive without them. She sends up a prayer, hoping all of them are safe in their travels. 

She tries to curve her thoughts back to the task at hand. She repeats her to-do list in her head like a mantra, just trying to keep her mind busy. Shower. Eat. Sleep. Job. Shower. Eat. Sleep. Job.

The next hour and a half pass that same way, with Clarke mumbling the words idly as she walks. In the distance, she can see the Pilot truck stop just ahead. She picks up her pace, a newfound sense of purpose. 

Just a few minutes later she slides into the gas station and looks around, all of these truck stops are nearly identical, with this one just sporting a little bit more camo clothing than usual. 

She makes her way up to the counter, waiting with her cash in hand to buy a shower. When she's up she approaches the man behind the counter who just looks bored. 

"Uh, just one shower" she rasps, her voice still sounding a little cracked from crying earlier.

"That all?" the man says.

"Yep," Clarke says quickly, unfolding the one-dollar bills to hand over.

"I got it," a deep voice says from behind her.

She turns to see a huge frame towering above her, with a middle-aged man stepping forward to hand over his truck stop member card. He smiles widely at her, completely at ease, as she goes completely still, confused at his intention. 

"I've got a ton of points saved up, I've got a long haul route, won't use em anyway" he answers before she can ask the question aloud. 

The guy at the register just grunts and swipes the card. Clarke stares up in awe at the man, beyond grateful for his help, She pockets her cash and grabs the shower ticket when it prints.

"Thank you so much, you have no idea how much that means to me..." Clarke trails off.

"No problem Miss," the kind stranger says, tipping his hat as he walks past her. 

Clarke, in a daze, turns and makes her way down the long corridor to the showers in the back. Her room is available immediately, and Clarke steps in, locking the door securely behind her. She strips quickly and kicks the water on. After 3 days without a shower, she had started getting a little ripe, that was for sure. The water feels amazing, these truck stops are such a hidden gem with their hot showers and insane water pressure. She luxuriates under the water for far too long and even uses the entire bottle of provided shampoo, trying to detangle the clumps of hair that have formed. Clarke uses the rest of her soap bar scrubbing all the patches of dirt and grime from her skin, and it's heaven. Life is all about the little treasures, she thinks.

Twenty minutes later and Clarke is squeaky clean. She steps out and wraps the white fluffy towel around her as she puts her hair up in the other. She spends just as long detangling her hair as she did in the shower. The end result is a sore scalp but dirty blonde waves that reach down to the middle of her back. Her hair dye was beginning to run out, and it wouldn't be long until her signature blonde was showing through.

She takes a second to inspect the wound on her shoulder, she had clipped the side of a cargo container when flipping off a track in Flagstaff, Arizona two weeks ago. It had healed up pretty good considering some of the injuries she had seen other freighthoppers get over the last few months. Some people never even made it to the ground alive, other hoppers called it greasing the track, it made Clarke sick just to think of it. Luckily, she had been in pre-med, so she could take pretty good care of herself. She had even become a little well known at jungles for fixing people up if they had medical supplies lying around. it was the least she could do for all the support they gave her.

Returning back to the task at hand, she rummages through her bag and takes out a new hair tie, tying back a little bit of the hair framing her face. She changes into her one other packed outfit, a forest green henley shirt with black jeans. The fresh socks and underwear are doing wonders for her mental health and she finds herself smiling as she glances in the mirror, putting more sunscreen back on her face.

When she emerges from the shower stall nearly an hour after going in, she garners a look from the guy behind the counter. It was as if she had been invisible before, but now he does a double-take, checking her out twice over. Clarke smiles and waves warmly, trying to look the part of a civilized human being. 

He nods once at her and tries to go back to reading his magazine, but she still finds him eyeing her as she makes her way down the aisles picking out snacks to refill her bag. When she goes up to the register he makes idle conversation, asking if she's just passing through, she answers yes and tries to keep it short, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself. She leaves with her pack full, a clean set of clothes, and a positive outlook on the day ahead.

Just up from the truck stop is a small grouping of shops she can barely make out the names on the signs, 'Sinclair's Auto Shop' and 'Arkadia Tailor' are the only visible ones. Arkadia was the name of the town Abby had mentioned, she now remembers. It had a good vibe to it, and Clarke hoped it would prove to be a nice break from the chaos of the last few months. Truthfully speaking, she didn't know how much more she could take.

With that, Clarke made her way down the worn sidewalk, passing by the old brick buildings and making her way to a small strip of outlet malls with a couple of dingy shops. One of them was selling outerwear, which reminded Clarke if she planned to stay stick around for any negligible amount of time, she would need to buy some hardy winter jackets and pants. What she had now had served her well in California, Arizona, and New Mexico, but she would freeze to death in less than a month here in the Montana wilderness. 

Clarke continued walking until she caught sight of her goal, a laundromat, a wood sign plastered over the beige cinderblocks, "24 Hour Ex-press Wash!' it didn't look great, but it would get the job done. Clarke stepped inside, relishing in the warmth of the dryers. She emptied her bag, tossing the old clothes into the washer, and unfastened her handkerchiefs, the one around her neck, one fastened to her arm, and one she kept in her pocket at all times. It would be nice to have everything completely clean. She would need to look presentable if she hoped to pick up any gigs in town. She turned to slide a quarter into the detergent machine and discovered that it would only cost 75 cents to do the entire load. Man, the cost of living was insanely low out here, why didn't she make it here sooner? She dumps the detergent in and then hops up on the folding table to wait. Only ten minutes in though, her stomach begins to growl, and she sighs. Why did it seem hunger was just as much her enemy as Diana Sydney was. She considered grabbing a granola bar out of her pack but thought of the extra ten bucks she had from the generous stranger paying for her shower. She craved _real_ food. The last time she had a proper meal had been a mulligan stew at a jungle camp in LA, before that had been dumpster diving behind a steakhouse in Amarillo, Texas. Hadn't been half bad, if she was being honest.

Without another thought, Clarke hopped down, grabbed her pack, and made for the door. She had another 45 minutes on her laundry, and she knew nobody would go after the small load of rags she had anyway.

Back outside, the bitter chill consumed her, and she wished she had her jacket that was in the washing machine back inside. She would have to find somewhere quick, but luckily she spotted a dive bar a block up on the right. It was just called 'Grounders' and Clarke tried not to think of it as ominous. 

She booked it down the cobbled street, trying to escape the cold. As she stepped towards the bar in the window was a small poster board that was written in sloppy handwriting "HeLp WaNtEd" and a drawing of what Clarke thought might be a possum with a thumbs up. It was just wacky enough to be charming, and Clarke took it as a good omen. She walked towards the entrance, took a breath to steady herself, and then opened the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please come and see me over on tumblr @bellamy-blaking :D 
> 
> Ready for some real action next chapter? I love all of your comments and kudos, thank you so much for reading <333


	3. Here Comes Your Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All! Thank you so much for checking out this chapter, I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> The title of this chapter is from the song Here Comes Your Man by the Pixies.

Clarke stepped inside, embracing the indoor heating after having been outside in the icy wind. She looked around the bar, noticing all of the vintage posters and antiques. Everything was cast in a bronze glow with wood accents and Clarke wasn't sure if this place was supposed to be 50's themed or if it was just literally from the '50s. She made her way to one of the barstools and sat down, waiting to see if someone would emerge from the door in the back. The restaurant was completely empty except for her.

After about a minute a woman emerged, and Clarke gazed up at her, taking in her bold appearance: her strong toned arms, pointed facial features, long braided hair, and the dark black tattoo that was painted across the right side of her face. Clarke could have spent another hour admiring the woman, but the stare she was giving her was not exactly the friendly type. 

"Good afternoon," Clarke said feebly. 

The woman tipped her head in greeting, "How can I help ya?"

Clarke pointed her finger at the sign in the window and then gave a thumbs-up, mimicking the possum on the poster, "I was actually looking for a job" Clarke said, trying to seem like a chill and laid back version of Clarke from another dimension. 

The woman smiled, revealing a dazzling set of white teeth, and turned her head back towards the kitchen, "John, get your ass out here!" she shouted.

After a few beats, the door swung open again and a thin man with medium-length greased up black hair stalked into the bar area and his eyes scanned Clarke, vaguely amused. Clarke noticed his eyes were a similar blue to her own but with way more personality. He looked equal parts sarcastic and menacing. The black cooking apron he was wearing canceled out any malevolent vibes he must usually have, and Clarke thought he just looked goofy overall.

"She's lookin' for a job," the woman said, seeming defeated.

"I told you she wasn't a dine 'n' dasher!" the man, John quipped. 

"I didn't say that!" the woman declared, pinching his arm. Then, they both must have realized she was still sitting there because they turned and smiled shyly. Clarke did not know what to make of their response but decided to surge ahead.

Clarke chuckled and shook her head, "Nope, just looking for a gig."

The man stepped forward and offered his hand, "Definitely, sorry for the urm... confusion. I'm Murphy and this is my girl Emori." Clarke noticed the man beam when he spoke her name, and his eyes rested on her for a moment. Love and endearment were plain on his face, and it softened Clarke to see.

The woman beamed back at him and then turned to nod at Clarke again.

Clarke extended her hand and shook both of theirs, "I'm Josephine" she lied easily, recalling the name on the last burner Wells had given her. 

"What brings you to Arkadia, Josephine?" Murphy asks quizzically.

Clarke stills, not having prepared for any questions like this at all. Stupid, she thought, she was terrible at lying on the spot. Something close to the truth was always better, right? "I'm just passing through," she said cooly, "I'm traveling the country but was getting low on cash, so I thought I would bum it somewhere while I get back on my feet." 

She expected to see judgment or wariness on either of their faces, but they both just seemed to nod as they listened, acting as if this was perfectly normal. Murphy even smiled appreciatively, and Clarke felt a little blown away at their open-mindedness. 

"That's fine," Murphy said smiling, "Are you just car camping or did you ride in here on the fly?"

Clarke's mouth went dry, he knew far too much about the bum lifestyle, could he possibly be…? No… she had yet to meet another freighthopper just in the real world.

Murphy must have sensed her inner turmoil because he laughed as Emori rolled her eyes playfully, "I only ask because Emori and I used to take my old Mitsubishi van out and travel around Montana, Wyoming, the Dakotas, that kind of thing. We got to know the people on the roads, and they're alright by me." 

Clarke beamed, looking between the two of them, she felt seen and she'd never vibed so quickly with people before. She remembered Murphy's earlier question and she smiled, "Yeah, I just made it here from Santa Fe on a freighter, I was hoping to stay awhile."

Emori nodded, as if this was all she needed, and then she ducked her head to reach into some cabinets next to the bar.

"Have you ever tended bar before?" Murphy asked, without any pressure. His eyes seemed to be inspecting her, but without the intense scrutiny that would usually accompany a job interview.

Clarke knew all of her I.D.s said she was 21, which she was grateful to Wells for, but truth be told she was still 20, her birthday was in October, and she had never worked much in the restaurant industry. She frowned and focused back in on Murphy, "unfortunately not, I've only ever worked in the dish pit for a short time as I've traveled..."

Murphy smiled despite the disappointing news, "It's no problem! Easy to learn, ain't it Em?"

Emori turned around, huffing at Murphy, and she held out a bundle of clothes, which she thrust towards Clarke with a smile. She accepted them, beyond grateful to see an apron and a tee shirt with a minimal Grounder's logo on it. 

Emori fiddled with one of the many bracelets on her hand, "Yeah, I've been the resident bartender for nearly 4 months now, and I had never poured a drink before that... It's not for me." Emori added.

"I'm not much of a drinker, but I'd love to try it out" Clarke answered, peering over at the shelves of liquor and beer.

"Great! That settles it!" Murphy laughed, clapping a hand on Clarke's shoulder, the one still sensitive from her accident. Clarke grit her teeth, trying not to flinch at the pain that rippled through the entire left side of her body.

Clarke smiled and looked at the clothes in her hands, beyond grateful for having another shirt to wear, "When can I start?" 

Murphy chuckled, obviously loving her enthusiasm, "Let's just finish up the paperwork side and then we'll go over the _ground_ rules... get it? Grounder's Bar" and then he snorted at his own joke. 

Emori booed theatrically as she wandered back behind the bar and started taking out glasses and different bottles of amber liquid. 

"You love me" Murphy quipped, walking over to where Emori stood with the bottles.

"Unfortunately" Emori deadpanned, but she relented and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"So yeah, Josephine, I'll just grab your W-4 and we can fill it out at the bar, sound good?" Murphy asked as he was disappearing down the hall.

"Sounds good!" Clarke said, trying not to sound nervous. She had never tried to get an on-paper job, and she didn't really know the limits to the whole fake identity thing Wells had set up for her. Would a W4 come back saying she didn't exist? Or that she had the driver's license of a dead Josephine from 100 years ago? Clarke had no idea, but no other choice but to risk it.

Murphy returned a moment later, forms in hand, and he sat down at the barstool next to her. Clarke handed over her I.D. and started to fill out the papers to the best of her ability. Under the address portion, she began writing her home address from back in D.C. but caught herself just in time. She wrote over that line with the fake one listed on her I.D. Clarke was glad she had taken the time to memorize them in such detail. She grabbed the tiny pocketbook out of her bag and handed the I.D. over to Murphy, he scanned it for a moment, and Clarke thought she saw him examine it closer as if the authenticity hologram didn't exactly meet the light correctly. Clarke swallowed loudly, hoping this wasn't going to be the end of all her good fortune today. Murphy turned and smiled at her, completely at ease, "I'll just make a photocopy of this and then send it all in later, kay?"

Clarke nodded, but just then her stomach growled loudly, filling the empty room, Emori looked over from the bar and spoke up, "You hungry? We were just about to make lunch for ourselves."

Murphy interjected before Clarke could turn her offer down, "Babe, we've gotta finish the rest of the steak cuts from yesterday before tonight, just fry it all up, there's enough for 3." Murphy turned and winked at Clarke before walking down the hallway next to the bar. When he returned Clarke was still standing at the bar, unsure of herself. Murphy smiled at her, and even though she didn't know him too well she thought he didn't seem like the overly warm type, but she was grateful for their hospitality nonetheless. He walked into the prep room in the back and held the door open for Clarke, ushering her in.

They spent the next 20 minutes talking, and going over ground rules in the kitchen while Emori cooked. Emori piped up every once in a while to make a jab at Murphy or just to explain something more in-depth. Clarke thought the job would be easy enough, and she just hoped she would learn fast and show both of them they were right to take a chance on her. Murphy finished up frying the sandwiches, one for each of them, and then they moved back out to the bar where they all sat down to eat. One bite and Clarke thought she might pass out, it was heaven. The fresh peppers and onions mixed with the chipped beef were literally intoxicating to Clarke. She didn't realize she had been scarfing it all down until she noticed Murphy glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Clarke slowed down and savored it, so grateful for the first hot meal she'd had in a long while. After she ate she reached into her pocket to grab the cash from earlier, offering it out to Murphy, he scoffed and put a hand up, stopping her. 

"We'll uhh... take it out of your paycheck or something..." Murphy said dismissively. Clarke was shocked, still holding out the bills as if her arm was frozen solid.

"All good" Murphy said, nodding to convince her.

"Thanks," Clarke said quietly, floored by all the generosity she had received in just one day. 

Emori piped up from the kitchen where she had disappeared with the dishes, "Oh yeah, we pay on Mondays of each week, but we let you guys take home tips nightly, we're not new to the whole gig thing"

"That sounds great, how many other people do you guys have?" Clarke asked, curiosity getting the best of her.

"Right now? Just you and two other girls. Emori has been helping me out while I was looking for new people. Octavia and Harper are going to be psyched to have another waitress, they've been working crazy hours trying to keep this place afloat." Murphy grinned triumphantly. 

"You were about to run those poor girls off John" Emori snipes.

Murphy scoffs, getting up off the barstool, "Was not!" he shouts.

From there on they fall into a steady bicker as they do dishes and wipe menus. Clarke laughs along as she cleans, wiping down all the tables and the bar in preparation for the after-work crowd later tonight. She works diligently, trying to outpace both Murphy and Emori. Up until now, it was just the three of them in the entire place, Clarke uses it as an opportunity to get accustomed to the table layout and where everything is stored. Clarke happened to pass by the newspaper that was sitting up on the bar, and it read Friday, September 13th, 2019. Clarke was shocked, it had actually been closer to nine months since she had left home. The thought usually would have caused terror, but Clarke simply felt proud that she had made it this far, and that she fought through everything to survive. 

After an hour or so of cleaning Murphy and Emori told her to take a break for a minute, and Clarke excused herself to go switch over her laundry. She was back in less than 20 minutes, but when she returned a few people had already made their way into the bar.

Around 5:30, the place already started to feel packed with people, chatting idly with Emori or with other patrons at the bar. Clarke did her best to work quickly and bring orders back to the kitchen where Murphy was working. People seemed to enjoy Emori's stiff nature, and they looked curiously at Clarke from time to time, as if they weren't sure what to make of her. One woman, a gorgeous brunette with tanned skin and a killer figure, called over to Clarke, smiling as Clarke walked over. Clarke tried not to stare, but the swish of her high ponytail was hypnotic, and she couldn't believe somebody could have such perfect skin without wearing a pound of concealer, contour, and highlighter. 

"What's going on Blondie? How'd you get roped into working with these delinquents?" she asked. 

Clarke stiffened, but before she could answer, Murphy came out of the kitchen and dropped off two baskets at the bar, and strolled over.

"She's one of us, Rae" Murphy said simply.

The woman looked over Clarke discreetly, seeming unconvinced. "I'm Raven, another fellow degenerate." 

Clarke smirked as she took her hand shaking it firmly, "I'm Josephine, it's nice to meet you."

After that, Raven seemed to open up a bit more, studying her and asking various questions about her travels. Clarke had made conversation with strangers before while drifting through, but her questions were very direct as if she was studying Clarke like a science experiment. It made Clarke nervous, but she stuck to her story of just being a hippie traveler, trying to make her way across the continental U.S. 

Before she knew it the bar was packed, and she had been chatting with Raven far too long. When she looked up she saw a short girl with long black hair come marching into the bar, commanding the world around her with every step. She had a black bag slung over her shoulder. A couple of patrons whooped when she came in, but the girl just flipped them all the bird and laughed as she walked past, headed down the hallway. She seemed carefree, and she was remarkably beautiful, which Clarke was beginning to see was a huge trend in this town. Clarke said goodbye to Raven and then hurried back to waiting tables, trying to make up for the lost time. 

Emori called her over to the bar so Clarke finished picking up a tray of empty dishes and then made her way over. Emori raised her voice to talk over the volume of the bar, "Now that Octavia's here, I'm gonna start training you behind the bar. She can take over waiting tables." Clarke nodded, excited at the prospect of learning to bartend. 

Octavia rounded the corner, now sporting the same Grounder's tee shirt that Clarke was wearing, and her hair was now up in a bun. She zeroed in on her right away, narrowing her eyes in confusion that Clarke almost thought was hostility. 

"Hi," Octavia said, her voice low and cold.

"Hey, it's nice to meet you, I'm Josephine, I'm going to be tending bar with Emori." Clarke tried.

The girl peered to her left to look at Emori, who was too busy serving a group of guys that had come in to notice their interaction.

"Cool," Octavia said casually, but she didn't relax from her stiff posture. 

Just then, Emori called Clarke over to assist her, and she smiled once more at Octavia and hurried over.

The rest of the night passed by in a flash, Clarke had never been so social. One of the good things about working in a dish pit was never interacting with anyone, she felt completely wiped. Everyone had complimented her pouring skills, but Clarke didn't know how impressive it was to simply crack open a beer and put it in a glass. She weaved back and forth between Murphy and Emori, and as the night wore on she needed help less and less. Only if somebody ordered a cocktail that was kind of complex would she call to Emori for help, but all in all the night was a total success. Octavia had even lightened up considerably, Clarke had caught her chatting it up with Raven, the girl she had spoken with earlier. After Raven left the bar, waving to Clarke as she stood to leave, Octavia had begun to smile more, and even crack jokes about some of the patrons. All of the people at the bar seemed to love Octavia, and Clarke noticed her picking up tip after tip when people started trickling out of the bar. Clarke had picked up all the tips from the bar, and it was an impressive 58 bucks and some change, but she would have to split it between herself, Emori, and probably Octavia. Clarke didn't really know the rules, but she figured just shy of 20 bucks would get her pretty far. 

It was nearing 10:30 when Octavia turned and rushed towards the door, Clarke watched as the door swung open and a tall figure walked in. He was a little taller than average, with short curly hair framing his forehead. His skin was bronze like Octavia's, but that was all Clarke could see from the door. Octavia embraced him in a hug and he laughed his voice soft and low. That's when Clarke noticed his jacket, it was black leather, with a shiny badge peeking out of the right breast pocket. Clarke turned and looked out of the front windows to see a police cruiser parked in one of the front spots. Another man was just shutting the car door and making his way to the entrance of the bar.

Clarke's blood ran cold. She knew it was already too late, the man had freed himself from Octavia's embrace and was now raking his eyes over her slight form. His brow was quirked mischievously, but he looked friendly, not threatening. He made his way over to the bar and sat down in between the groups of people that were still mingling about.

"Murphy didn't warn me there'd be such a pretty face tending the bar tonight..." the man smirked, meeting Clarke's eyes. His were such a warm brown, like the western hemlock trees Clarke had spotted all around Montana. The rest of his face was chiseled, especially his jawline that was covered in stubble. All of that was background noise to Clarke, as she couldn’t take her eyes off of the constellations of freckles on his high cheekbones. _Perfect_ , a small voice in her mind whispered. She felt herself blush, uncontrollably, and she tried to hide her face. Even more terrifying than that was her throat was completely dry, rendering her mute for the moment.

Just then, the other man sat down on the stool next to him and looked up at Clarke, "Sorry about him, he's a complete and utter fool… but trust me, Bellamy is totally harmless." At this, Bellamy scoffed and rolled his eyes theatrically. Bellamy, she thought, what an odd but perfect name 

Clarke tried to smile, but she couldn't help but notice their badges sticking out, and her palms began to sweat.

Clarke's silence carried on, so the second man spoke up again a little louder, "Where are the delinquents tonight? Murphy and Emori _finally_ go elope or somethin'?"

Murphy's voice came from back in the kitchen, "Ha. ha. Very funny. Ever consider we just wanted a night off from all your horseshit, Miller?"

Miller laughed, hearty and loud. The other man just shook his head, but he was smiling. His eyes met Clarke's again and she looked away, feeling a wave of embarrassment from before return. 

From what Clarke could put together, she hadn’t been recognized. These guys didn’t look like state troopers or highway patrolmen, just regular beat cops, and the handsome one to the right seemed to have some connection to Octavia. There was nothing to fear, at this moment at least.

Clarke reached up and tucked one of her locks behind her ear, and the man’s eyes traveled, watching the motion and then fixating on something on her face. It made Clarke self-conscious, she thought she had actually looked alright today, especially since that shower earlier in the day, but maybe she looked a little rough from working, or maybe the stress had added deep bags under her eyes, and wrinkles to her forehead. Maybe it was just that her face wasn’t perfectly symmetrical, all of these things could be reasons for staring, Clarke theorized. 

Murphy finally emerged from the prep room in the back, and she clung to him like a life preserver. She stepped behind him as he came up to the bar to talk to the two officers. He didn’t seem scared of them at all, in fact, Clarke could sense sort of a brotherly connection between the three of them. Octavia had gone to get her bag from the back so it was just the four of them at the bar, and a few patrons still mingling at the tables. Nobody needed their drink refilled or anything so Clarke stood stranded behind the bar, begging for Murphy to buy her some clemency.

Luckily enough, he did. The guys chatted about Arkadia news, local sports, and music while Clarke continued working. When Octavia came back she joined the group easily, commanding the conversation topics. Clarke envied her easy and assertive nature, this girl was the total package, she thought. Over a dozen times, as Clarke is cleaning up and refilling drinks, she meets Bellamy’s eyes, and then they both look away. He looks so curious and… hot. Clarke scolds herself for being so immature, but it’s true, he’s insanely hot. The alarms keep sounding off in her head, reminding her of the danger lurking all about. It’s all she can do to keep her eyes off him for the rest of the night, though she does slip up a few more times. 

The other officer, Miller, yawns at around a quarter till midnight. He gets up and pats Bellamy as he’s leaving. Clarke isn’t eavesdropping, she just happens to be nearby as she hears him say that he’s taking the cruiser and that Bellamy should ride home with Octavia. 

Bellamy looks around, his eyes catching Clarke’s again and they lock for a moment. He nods at Miller and turns back to the bar, looking up at one of the small TVs in the top left corner. Clarke needs to get to the prep room, which means going right past him. She gathers up her courage and then walks briskly behind the counter and into the double doors before he has the chance to say anything. She breathes a sigh of relief when she makes it in and drops off the dirty dishes from her last big table of the night. When she walks back out of the double doors he is waiting there for her, one brow quirked comically high.

“So anyway, you were just about to introduce yourself,” he says, low and suggestive. Clarke feels her body stir, trying not to react to his advances, but her head has turned to mush. It takes all of her willpower to remember what planet she’s on, nonetheless her fake name.

“It’s… Josephine” she says finally, and she can’t help but stare into his eyes as she speaks, transfixed by them. He stares back and they hold each other’s gaze for a long silent moment.

“Mhmm, so you do have a name,” he says quietly. Clarke swallows and nods, unsure of how her voice would come out if she attempted to speak. She is transfixed by the way his hum sounds.

  
“Just… Josephine, no nickname?” he says, and she notices he rubs his chin as if this really perplexes him. Clarke watches the way his hands come down and rest on the bar. His hand is tanned and veiny, she tries to come up with something to say that’s _not_ a lie.

She shakes her head, tells him no, and then busies her hands by wiping a water spill off of the bar. When she looks up, he's still staring at her, studying the way she moves. Bellamy sits back and huffs, seeming amused by her. Clarke is holding her breath, hoping he's not about to say she looks familiar, or that he knows who she is somehow. He just looks to be admiring her, and it makes Clarke's skin feel warm, she's sure she must look ridiculous. 

Bellamy finishes his drink, and orders another. It's a Manhattan, and Clarke thinks she knows how to make it. When she finishes pouring she hands it to him and he takes a sip, and it's obvious he's trying not to make a face. 

"Is it okay?" Clarke asks hesitantly.

"A... little strong" Bellamy says honestly, but he still smiles. "It's good though if you're trying to get me drunk." 

Clarke blushes and shakes her head yet again, "No... no this is just my first time working at a bar really."

Bellamy straightens, and his left brow rises to the heavens, Clarke has already noticed he does this when he's really thinking of something really intensely. 

He's silent for a minute or so, and Clarke's anxiety starts to work from a small flame into a wildfire. He finally shrugs and smiles at her, his smile takes her breath away, "Not so bad then." he says and takes another sip of his drink.

Clarke smiles and starts cleaning up the rest of the bar. Murphy told her earlier that Grounder's closes at 2 a.m. but nobody is even in here that late, so she'll typically work till 1 and then Murphy or Emori will lock up behind her. It's only 12:30 now and Clarke has nothing else to do. She's spent all night cleaning and busting her ass, and her efforts have paid off, the whole bar smells faintly of the cleaning wipes Clarke used, and every surface looks sleek and polished. 

Octavia comes around and talks with Clarke for a while, there are only 3 people left at the bar, including Bellamy, so she has no tables to wait on. Clarke answers her questions as honestly as she can. Interestingly, she and Octavia find they have a lot of the same interests. They like the same music, watch the same shows (though Clarke realizes she is insanely behind on the newest seasons of some of them) and they seem to have a similar taste in humor. Bellamy chimes in occasionally, poking at Octavia or asking Clarke a follow-up question. It feels less draining than talking to the bar patrons, but Clarke still has to keep her guard up, which is exhausting. Bellamy often raises his hand to rub the stubble on his chin, and his finger often grazes his lips, an unconscious gesture, it captivates Clarke each time, but she doesn't think he notices it.

At five till one o'clock, the two other patrons leave the bar, tossing Clarke a $5 each, Clarke thanks them and grins wide. She takes the bills back over to the tip cup and stuffs the bills in. It's a large mason jar, but it's full to the brim. Clarke is excitedly doing the math in her head, and she decides right then and there to celebrate tonight. She's going to go to that motel down the way, just for tonight. She'll run by a gas station and pick up some extra treats for dinner tonight. It'll be perfect. A perfect ending to the perfect first day here. 

Bellamy is watching her again, his hand ghosting over his lips, "What are you thinking about?"

This throws Clarke through a loop, she rubbed her hands on her apron and stared straight into his eyes, admiring the warm brown of them. "I was thinking that today was sort of perfect in a way," she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

Bellamy smiled too, but it was softer than before, and he tilted his head to the side, "Oh yeah, a perfect day?" Clarke was aware that there was only the foot-long divide of the bar separating him from her. Her cheeks turned pink and she looked down at her hands, and the lock of hair fell down too. He closed the distance and tucked it behind her ear again. The brief feeling of his hand grazing her ear sent shivers down her spine, and she looked up to see his pupils were blown and his hand was still hovering in mid-air. She smiled, small and shy, still gazing into his eyes. Something was swelling, something growing deep in the depths. The longer Clarke looked the more she felt like she was seeing something else, entirely under the surface. It was as if Bellamy's heart was calling out to her, the beats like a kick drum in his chest. She stood transfixed as his eyes bore into hers, and he seemed to be trying to get past her walls and see within as well. Clarke felt a sudden wave of pain, as she realized she couldn't let him in, he couldn't see who she truly was. He would see all of her demons, and all of the blood on her hands. _No, nobody can see that,_ she thought with despair. She looked away and walked briskly back into the prep room to find Murphy, not sparing him another glance.

Murphy and Emori were standing in the back of the prep room with clipboards in hand. Murphy looked up when the doors swung open and he smiled at Clarke. 

"So... how was your first day?!" Murphy asked animatedly. 

Clarke tried to shrug off all of the lingering pain she felt from her encounter with Bellamy and she put on her best smile, "It was amazing, truly!"

"Seriously? You can't possibly mean that" Emori said, incredulously. 

"No really! I actually sort of had fun. I like mixing drinks, though I'm not very good at it." Clarke admitted. 

Murphy jabbed Emori with his elbow and he had a shit-eating grin on his face, "You're gonna be out of a job, Em"

Emori rolled her eyes, but then laughed, "Well, let's see how good you did then."

All three of them walked out of the prep room and into the bar. Emori grabbed the tip cup, pulled the lid off, and counted up everything in it. She nodded appreciatively, "71 bucks! Not bad at all, kid." Emori had an impressed look on her face as she folded the bills over and handed them over.

Clarke stood still, confused, but Emori placed the bills in her hand and started to walk away back into the prep room. 

"W- wh- what?? Don't I have to split this with you and Octavia?" Clarke said, her voice high and tight.

Emori snorted, "Nah, she picks up her own tips throughout the night, those are the ones just for the bar." and then walked back into the prep room without another word. 

Before Clarke could settle with all of the emotions rampaging her senses, she was aware of Bellamy standing nearby talking to Murphy. They seemed to be having a relaxed conversation, but when she met Bellamy's eyes he looked a little off. Not necessarily angry or anything, but maybe a little hurt. Clarke tried to look busy as she was taking off her apron and folding it over her arm. When she looked up he had looked away and was walking towards Octavia.

Murphy came up to the bar and flashed her a lazy smile, "So, will we seeya tomorrow?" 

Clarke nodded enthusiastically and laughed, "Yeah! 4 o'clock right?"

Murphy nodded, "Yep! Harper opens, so you'll get to meet her tomorrow, okay?"

"Sounds good," Clarke said, nodding again.

"And uh... Josephine?" Murphy said after a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah?" Clarke said, trying not to get too nervous by his sudden demeanor change.

"Where are you staying?" he said quietly. Clarke could tell he wasn't trying to pry or be judgemental, he almost seemed like he was worrying. 

"The motel up the road, I think it's called Arkadia Inn," Clarke said, happy to not be lying for once. 

"Ah, yeah, I know the one. It's an o.k. spot." Murphy said, seeming still a little off.

He turned away as if to go down the hallway, Clarke went over to her bag and slipped the money inside, but he turned back around and spoke again, "Just let me know if you ever need anything, kay?"

Clarke smiled genuinely, warmed by his persistent kindness, "Yeah, for sure. You've already done so much."

He smiled but waved his hand at her as if it was nothing at all to have given her a free meal and a job at a moment's notice. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Clarke said, waving to him after she slung her bag over her shoulders. 

Murphy and Emori both said their goodbyes as she walked towards the entrance. Bellamy and Octavia were already long gone, she hadn't noticed them leave. The bar was empty, and it felt odd considering how alive it had felt just ten minutes prior. 

Clarke stepped out, the blistering cold wrapped around her like a vice. She made her way quickly over to the laundromat to grab her clothes that had been sitting in the dryer. She tucked them into her bag and then booked it down the next 5 blocks until she reached the Arkadia Inn.

She swung the door open, desperate for warmth, and clamored inside. The lobby was all beige and cast in dim yellow lights. It looked dated and worn, but at least it was a haven from the harsh winds outside. The lobby was empty, the front desk too, there were a couple of old box televisions near the seating areas on both sides of the room. Clarke walked up to the desk and rang the bell. It made an ominous dinging sound that reverberated against the empty walls in the room. After about 5 minutes Clarke heard rustling from down the hallway, and a small woman with amber hair came around the corner, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She walked behind the counter and up to the desk.

"Can I help you?" she said, groggy and obviously displeased. 

"I just need a room for tonight," Clarke said simply.

The woman grunted and started typing things in at her computer.

"I.D. and credit card?" the woman said.

Clarke handed her the I.D. and some of the cash Murphy had just given her.

The woman looked at the cash and then at Clarke, obviously annoyed.

"No credit card?" she said, her eyes not leaving the computer monitor. 

"Uh, no... it's just one night." Clarke said, trying to convince her.

The woman sighed and passed Clarke her I.D. back. She wordlessly wandered over to a cabinet on the wall and came back with a room key, it was just a zip tie with a key at the end, not even a plastic card. 

"Room 8 down the right, check out is at 11" is all she said as she handed Clarke the key.

Clarke nodded and thanked her profusely, but the woman turned away to go back to whatever room she had been staying in. 

Clarke made her way down to the room and opened the door. The room smelled a little stale, but it was clean and warm. She set down her bag, made her way into the bathroom to get ready for bed, and then slipped under the warm covers into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I love flirty Bellamy so much, we really didn't get to see too much canon flirtiness after S1. Leave me a comment or a kudos if you have time :) I'm also on tumblr @bellamy-blaking


	4. This Must Be The Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Thank you for coming back to check out the newest chapter of this fic!! 
> 
> So... a little surprise for you all! Since this fic is so closely inspired by Lose You Too by eyessharpweaponshot I wanted to also do Bellamy's perspective every fourth chapter. So much of this story is dependent on the heart and the head working together, so I love to show you all the other side every now and then. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> (P.S. This chapter name is inspired by the song This Must Be The Place by Talking Heads)

"Nice work, dipshit" Miller yelled as he was running through the alley towards the main street. 

Bellamy huffed and continued trying to wrap the towel around his bleeding hand. He felt like he could never win. Once he felt he had gotten the bleeding to stop he started walking down to where he had last seen Miller disappear. When he turned the corner to Magnolia street he could see Miller had given up chasing the kids and had turned around to walk back towards him. Bellamy shook his head, trying to keep his annoyance at bay. 

They had gotten at least 6 reports about these kids leaving graffiti all over Arkadia in the past month. This was the closest anyone had gotten to picking them up, but a stupid fucking glass bottle had gotten in Bellamy's way this time. _This is so dumb_ , he thought, _I'm a full-on detective, why am I out here putting up with this shit?_

Miller reached him after another minute and told him to stick out his hand so he could inspect it. As much as Bellamy had tried to put pressure on it, it was still bleeding a little. When he had tripped over the cinderblocks and fallen his lower palm had grazed some of the broken glass in the alleyway. Luckily he had just gotten his tetanus shot, he grumbled. 

Miller was laughing at him, poking fun at how ridiculous today had been. They had been scaring raccoons out of Ms. Jacobson's garage, trying to pick up kids for graffiti, and later on, they had to go take a statement about somebody that _insisted_ they had seen a ghost over by the train tracks outside town. This job was a joke. Sometimes Bellamy felt more like a mall cop than an actual detective. All there was left to do was go back to the station and update everyone with the news about the kids. At least they had figured out there were 5 of them to look out for, and Miller had gotten a pretty good look at them. Maybe they could cross-reference with the local middle and high schools.

They piled back into the cruiser and made idle conversation about the case on their way back to the precinct. Talking Heads was playing over the radio, and Bellamy turned it up as Miller drove, humming along to the words he knew. Miller took that as a sign Bellamy didn't have anything else to say on the matter, and fell into silence. Bellamy and Miller had been partners for over 5 years. Bellamy had graduated from the academy only 3 months after Miller, and they had been paired up together, and now they were inseparable. They had both applied to be detectives when the two other guys in Arkadia had retired around the same time. The bump in pay had been great at first, but Bellamy quickly realized the job had stayed exactly the same. The song on the radio ended and Bellamy cranked the volume down and looked out the window. 

It was easy to get frustrated and feel hopeless in this job, and even more so in this town. Bellamy tried to look on the bright side, there wasn't a lot of crime here, which means they must be doing something right. Hell, it's a good thing the only criminals he's dealing with are raccoons and a couple of delinquent kids. Bellamy smirked, thinking of his own delinquents. It had been a while since everyone had gotten together to hang out, especially with Monty having moved to Polson a couple of months prior. He made a mental note to get everyone together soon at Grounders or something.

The thought made his mind draw a blank. All he could see was his memory of last night, as he had stared up into Josephine's eyes. There had been something there, calling out to him like the melody to his harmony. He had fallen into the abyss of her eyes and her smile. He could even remember the sound of her laugh as she had giggled at Octavia the night before. Something in his heart stirred, beating irregularly fast, he remembered the way her hair had fallen into her face and he had tucked it behind her ear. He had thought she was so beautiful, ethereal frankly. Nobody that gorgeous had ever walked the streets of Arkadia, he knew that for sure. Bellamy had tried so hard to dig for information about her since Josephine had been so tight-lipped he had turned to Octavia. The entire ride home he had grilled her, really given her the third degree, for any information on her hot new coworker. 

Octavia had laughed and called him gross, but eventually, she relented and told Bellamy what she knew. When she had gotten to work, Murphy had pulled her aside for a moment and explained that he had hired someone new on sort of a trial basis. Murphy told her not to worry, her hours would stay the same and she'd still get to wait tables as this new chick was going to replace Monroe as the bartender. Octavia had been unsure, especially after the meeting the girl, who at first glance she just thought was weird. Octavia went on to tell him about how Raven had come in last night and gave her the run-down about her. Raven had apparently talked to Josephine for almost an hour last night, and all she had learned was she was sort of a hippie who had been road-tripping across the U.S. and was just staying in Arkadia to save up some money. Bellamy thought that was odd, seeing as how Josephine hadn't really had that outdoorsy vibe, she seemed a little meek and nervous from what Bellamy had observed. She did look tan and fit, so Bellamy supposed Raven was probably right. Raven also said the girl was insanely cool once you got to talk to her, which Octavia agreed had been true once she had gotten her to open up a little. Octavia theorized maybe she was just a little anxious, especially with it being her first night on the job. 

Bellamy puzzled this, but his inner detective sensed something different. When he had first laid eyes on her he had been utterly captivated. He had nearly shoved Octavia off of him to come stumbling up to the bar, but the look on her face had been of absolute fear and terror. Later on, she hadn't seemed so afraid, but Bellamy could still sense her nerves were through the roof. At the moment he guessed he had been hoping she was into him, but later on, he realized it was something else entirely. It made all of the sirens in his head go off, and he itched to investigate; sometimes he felt like a hound that had just caught the scent of some entrancing target he just had to sniff out. Still, the thought of her made his throat run dry.

Miller seemed to almost have this innate ability to guess what was on Bellamy's mind, maybe it was just luck, but as always he was able to nail the thought exactly. "So about that girl last night" he trailed off. 

"Yeah? What about her?" Bellamy said gruffly.

"Never seen you like that Blake, of course, I don't know shit about girls but some vibes were being passed around, that's for sure," he said, glancing at Bellamy as he drove. 

Bellamy laughed, trying to keep the conversation light, "Yeah I mean she was definitely gorgeous, weird though, you don't often see girls like that around here, you know?"

Miller nodded and was silent for a moment, "So I'm guessing you didn't go home with her?"

Bellamy shook his head and chuckled, "Nah, she's definitely not that sort of girl. I tried to make a move but she just sort of clammed up."

Miller laughed, "Maybe you don't have as much game as you think you do."

With this, Bellamy grunted, not liking to be picked on by Miller. Not everybody could just fall in love with their high-school sweetheart and have everything work out just fucking perfect. That was nothing against Jackson, who was a great guy, Bellamy was just bitter sometimes. His friends liked to call him the grouch, and maybe for good reason.

Bellamy had tried to have that life. He _had_ that life, could taste the perfection of it, if only for a minute. It had taken years for him to be able to think of Gina without breaking down. He had loved her, beyond what he thought was possible, but now he realizes how much of it had been clouded by their youth and simple infatuation. Still, her death had shaken him to the core, and it was the reason he had become an officer in the first place.

Before his thoughts could carry him any further, Miller started speaking again, once again sensing his train of thought, "Hey man, I think it's nice, you haven't really gotten back out there since, y'know."

"Yeah," Bellamy said as he gazed out the window, but then he had a thought and he smirked, "What about Echo?"

Miller was silent, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened considerably, "What about her?"

Bellamy laughed, his whole body shaking with it. It was no secret Miller and Echo did not get along. She and Bellamy had been sleeping together on and off for over a year, but by no means was it anything serious. 

That also made Bellamy think, why had meeting this total stranger made him think of the endless possibilities of something serious, where even after a year with Echo nothing like that had ever even crossed his mind. It really puzzled him, and Bellamy knew it must mean a whole lot more than he realized. He rubbed his chin as he thought, trying to sort out all of his overwhelming feelings in his mind. His heart had always been out of control, even his mother used to tell him so. It took an extra effort to use his mind to problem solve rather than just using gut instinct.

Bellamy's gut instinct told him there was something to Josephine that didn't meet the eye, and he felt his heart stretch out over the great lengths he had made to try and limit it. When he had looked into her crystal blue eyes, the cage he had locked his heart into had walked free and now it felt as though it was bleeding all over the facts and logic side he had worked to cultivate over the past decade.

He knew one thing for sure though, after a day like today, he was going to need a drink.

* * *

Lieutenant Miller dismissed them all from their weekly meeting and sent them back downstairs to finish all of their paperwork. Bellamy typically worked weekends since a lot of the other guys on the force had kids and wives, that sort of thing. Unfortunately for him though, it meant he got left with a lot of desk duty for paperwork that was due come Monday morning. He had spent the better part of the afternoon getting caught up, and after the briefing, he felt completely drained.

Bellamy walked back to his desk to send out one email to Dax to let him know to follow up on the graffiti case while he was out of the office. As soon as he hit send he saw Echo walk out of the conference room where she had been chatting with Captain Pike and a couple of other officers. Her hips swayed as she made her way up to his desk. Bellamy pretended to scan his email, reading the same one over and over. It's from the state troopers' office, just the weekly updates on stolen cars and missing persons in the county and state. He doesn't comprehend anything on it, he's just trying to look busy, but it doesn't work. 

Echo strolls up and sits on his desk, which he has told her nearly one thousand times he can't stand. Her dark brown hair is cascading down her shoulders, and she's smacking her lips as she chews a piece of gum, the sound reverberating off of the walls of his half cubicle. Bellamy reaches his hand up and tangles it in his hair, he's trying not to be irritated, but this is the last thing he wants to deal with right now. When his hand reaches his hair he flinches, remembering the cut in the middle of his palm that he still needs to get checked out. Echo doesn't notice, she just keeps smacking her lips.

"Hey," Echo says seductively, nudging his knee with her foot that's swaying off of his desk. 

"Hey, what's up" Bellamy answers, not taking his eyes off of the screen. 

"You're off tomorrow right? Wanna come stay at my place?" Echo says, her voice lowering as she looks down at him. 

Bellamy finally looks up, and he looks up into her face, minimal makeup, long dark brown lashes, and beautiful lips, even though they're always scowling. Bellamy shakes his head, "Nah, I've got plans" and he looks away again, trying not to catch the look of defeat that washes across her features. Even Echo isn't immune to rejection, it seems. He catches a glimpse of her face out of the corner of his eye and she drew her eyebrows together and slid off of his desk. 

"Whatever Blake," she said coldly and started stalking towards the precinct exit. Bellamy listened as the sound of her boots clicked against the walls. This was probably the fifth or sixth time he had blown her off in the past month, but now it was distinctly different.

Before today, he had just told himself he was bored with it all. Echo was great, and he really appreciated that she just wanted something casual, which was hard to find. Bellamy just didn't feel anything, and it had led to him wanting to break it off, but he didn't really know why. After the last 24 hours, it was like his world had turned on its axis completely. Bellamy hadn't thought about anyone other than Josephine since he had seen her for the first time a little under a day ago. Even his dreams had been plagued with her presence. 

In the dream she had been sitting at the edge of his bed, staring out the window. When Bellamy had gotten out of bed, shocked by her appearance in his room of all places. No matter what he said to her, she didn't turn her head or respond in any way. She just continued staring out the window and blinking slowly. Bellamy had awoken with her on his mind, and it had permeated his thoughts all day long, no matter how hard he tried to shake it.

He was dragging his fingers through his hair when he realized he was late for meeting with Miller. He had gotten distracted by the thought of her... again.

Bellamy stood and grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and pulled it on. It was already getting a little cold this time of year. Bellamy hoped they wouldn't have a brutal winter this year, but it seemed to be heading that way. He grabbed the rest of his things and started to hurry outside to the lot outside the precinct. Miller was already waiting and he seemed irritated. As soon as Bellamy made it to the side of the car and inside Miller was already giving him hell.

"I've been waiting nearly 20 minutes, Blake!" Miller hissed, "Where you been, bro?"

"Sorry, had to finish up the audit for Monday, it took longer than I thought," Bellamy said, not wanting to bring up his run-in with Echo. 

Miller huffed and put the squad car into reverse and then backed out of the lot. He drove quickly and silently towards the center of town. He and Miller always caught a movie on the weekends, whether the theatre was doing a throwback weekend where they showed old movies, or if it was a new release. As far as Bellamy knew there wasn't anything new out he wanted to see, so they'd probably go with whatever was on. Truthfully, he was hoping it'd be something short, so they could end the night over at Grounders. His leg bounced as Miller drove, and he let his thoughts travel back to the night before. He knew he'd have to question Murphy about her some more. Why else would he have brought a stranger into his bar like that? There had to be something more going on. He scratched his chin and started to think of ways he could look into it. Maybe he could get Octavia to find out her last name so Bellamy could look her up? He just wanted to know her better, he thought. When he had stared into her eyes, it had been like he could see the prison bars she was trapped behind. Just for a moment, he had seen something stirring there, but she had looked away so quickly, and hid her inner self from him. Maybe it's better left alone, Bellamy thought. _Only a fucking creep would look someone up like that_ Bellamy's subconscious sneered. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

"I knew you wouldn't go home with her, you know? That's why I took the cruiser last night." Miller said abruptly.

"Again with this shit?" Bellamy said brusquely, crossing his arms over his chest.

Miller chuckled and flexed his hands around the steering wheel. Bellamy watched his eyes as they narrowed in concentration before Miller spoke again.

"I could just tell it was different, that's all," Miller said evenly.

"She didn't even seem into me, Miller. Leave it alone." Bellamy spat, trying to scare him off the subject.

"Nah man, she was into you. Anybody with eyes could see that." Miller said, smiling at Bellamy genuinely. 

Bellamy sighed dramatically and looked out the window. Everyone was giving him such a hard time about this girl, Octavia had made fun of him on the way home. He had even gotten a text from Harper that night asking him what he thought of the new bartender featuring the eyes emoji and the squiggly face emoji. He had a better chance of understanding Egyptian hieroglyphics than understanding emojis so he just left her text unanswered which had lead to a middle finger emoji the next morning. His leg bounced with irritation, his boring life had been just that, _boring_.

Bellamy had never told a soul, but he secretly hated Arkadia. He had resented that his Mom had moved them here shortly after Octavia was born, and he had never liked it. He had just been waiting for Octavia to be fully grown and raised so that he could get them to move somewhere else. Bellamy dreamed of somewhere exciting and full of life; Montana was like a prison to him, but nobody else seemed to feel the same way. Somewhere along the way Bellamy had gotten used to the simple life in the middle of rural Montana. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped dreaming for a life full of purpose and excitement. Somewhere along the way, Bellamy had gotten stuck, just like he had always feared. Now, Josephine had appeared in his life from _somewhere_ else. For one moment his heart fluttered, imagining that it all meant something. In the next moment, reality returned and he shunned himself for even hoping. _That's not the way life works, idiot,_ his subconscious scolded.

He blinked, and he noticed his eyes were nearly full of tears. Bewildered, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and looked down. There was a trail over his knuckles where the tears had been threatening to spill over. What the hell was wrong with him? It had been years since he had cried. It was as if his whole world was suddenly knocked out of orbit and chaos had begun reigning down. Why on earth was he crying? Everything was perfectly fine, not everybody got to live out their dreams, and that's okay. He told himself this, but it didn't ease the ache that always lived in his chest. He was just noticing it more lately, that was all. 

Luckily for him, he was distracted by Miller's enthusiasm next to him as they pulled up at Arkadia theatre. Bellamy turned to see Miller grinning from ear to ear, nodding his head to the side at the big movie poster out front.

"Dude they've finally got IT Chapter 2!" Miller yelled.

Bellamy managed a small smirk, he loved his enthusiasm at horror movies. Bellamy could take it or leave it; he loved action movies, history documentaries, and he secretly loved period dramas. (Though only Octavia knew that.)

"Let's see that then!" Bellamy said, trying to seem just as hyped as his partner. Miller had already unfastened his seatbelt and was clambering out of the cruiser. This made Bellamy genuinely chuckle.

He followed Miller up to the kiosk where he had already bought the tickets and they both walked into the small lobby of the theater. There was only one small snack check stand, but it had all the best stuff. The kids behind the counter ready knew the routine, so they grabbed their regular bucket of popcorn, the coke and cherry slushies, the 2 boxes of M&Ms, and Miller's sour patch kids. Bellamy paid and the two of them started walking towards the left hallway where theatre 2 was. Once inside, they scanned the rows of people, this room was actually moderately packed, but there were only like 30 rows of 10 in the first place, so even half capacity wasn't much. Miller always picked the middle spot in the lower section, and they started setting up for the movie. Since Bellamy had taken extra time at the office they had missed the previews, which was fine with him since they saw the same ones every week. Bellamy opened up his two boxes of M&Ms and dumped them into the popcorn. He shook the bucket around, trying to evenly disperse the candy throughout. Miller made a disgusted noise as he was putting the straw in his slushie. 

"What?" Bellamy scoffed.

"Waste of perfectly good popcorn," Miller said dejectedly. 

Bellamy snickered, this was one of their epic battles they had every week. "You love it, you're just mad you didn't think of it first!"

Miller punched him softly on the shoulder and rolled his eyes. Bellamy knew he was right.

He grabbed some and started snacking while the last of the previews played and he grinned triumphantly when he saw Miller sneaking small handfuls of popcorn as the movie started. 

He tried his best to focus completely on the movie, but his leg bounced almost the entire time as his mind replayed his entire conversation with Josephine over and over.

By the time he had replayed everything about a dozen times, he had memorized the curve of her lip and the little dimple on the left side of her face. The more he thought of Josephine, the less real she seemed. If it hadn't have been for the people around him asking about her, he wasn't sure he could convince himself yesterday had really happened. On top of that, the soft trill of her voice echoed in his mind, and it sounded more like a siren call than what could be a human voice. Was he going insane? By the end of the movie, the bucket of popcorn was still half full and Miller had started glancing in his direction every few minutes and eyeing his leg that was still shaking. Bellamy tried his best to calm himself so Miller could enjoy the movie, but it didn't make any difference.

When the credits finally rolled Bellamy realized he hadn't seen but a combined total of five minutes of the movie. They moved back out to the lobby and tossed all the popcorn that was left. Miller rubbed his eyes as the sunlight poured in from outside. He slid his aviator sunglasses on, but Bellamy could see he had a small smile on his face. Bellamy trudged out of the lobby with the stained old red carpet and back out into the cruiser. 

Miller pulled out and began driving westbound, his smile growing as they turned onto the main street towards Grounder's bar. Bellamy felt his heart kick into third gear, and he moved to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants. Miller eyed his hands as they moved, and Bellamy could see his dark brown eyes sparkle mischievously. 

"You could have just said you wanted to skip matinee day, dude" Miller snickered shaking his head.

"I didn't... I just" Bellamy struggled for the words.

"Nah, I get it. You don't have to tell me. You're buying the burgers though!" Miller joked.

Bellamy smiled wide, "Thanks man, that's fair."

They rode the rest of the way to grounders in silence. Bellamy watched out the window as they passed by the post office, the bank, the Arkadia Inn, and a couple of other small shops that lined the main streets of the town. Miller pulled up to Grounders and parked on the side lot, when he shut the car off he hesitated before getting out and he took a long assessing glance at Bellamy. 

"What?" Bellamy asked, nervously checking his face in the side mirror. The bandage on his hand made it hard for him to fix his hair, but he still tried his best.

"Just relax, imagine everybody in their underwear or something" Miller wiggled his eyebrows before laughing and opening the door to the cruiser. 

Bellamy reached out and jabbed his bicep before sliding out of the cruiser himself. "Not helping" he grumbled. Before shutting the door, Bellamy slid his patrol jacket off and left it in the cruiser, leaving him in only his blue v-neck undershirt. The afternoon had felt warmer than the day before, and if he was being honest it was one of his favorite shirts, so he hoped it might bring him some good luck.

Both of the guys made their way to the door and then stepped inside. The soft light of Grounders bar cast the place in a mild orange glow. Bellamy scanned the entire restaurant in under a second flat. Only 8 people were dining and 3 at the bar, but no sign of Josephine. Bellamy sighed, and it felt like a chasm had opened up in his chest. The hope he had felt just moments before disintegrated into ash, and he made his way up to the bar as he had the night before. 

Emori popped her head out of the back and smiled at the two of them, and she told them she'd be just a minute. Bellamy nodded and went back to his daydreaming from earlier. Maybe Josephine hadn't been real after all, just some perfect delusion he had dreamed up in his subconscious. He peered over his shoulder to see Miller typing enthusiastically on his phone, probably texting Jackson about how insane he was being. Before he turned back to staring straight ahead he saw a blur of dirty blonde hair come around the corner from the back hallway. 

Josephine had been approaching the bar but stopped short when she saw him. Her eyes slowly scanned up and down as if analyzing the cotton fibers of his shirt. _Is she checking me out right now?_ Bellamy's thoughts screamed. She recovered quicker than she had the night before and walked behind the bar with measured steps. Bellamy saw Miller look up out of the corner of his eye and beam at her before sliding his phone back into his pocket. 

"Hey Josephine, good to see you again!" Miller grinned and nodded at her politely. 

Josephine smiled, showing a hint of the dimple on the left side of her face. Bellamy studied the way her front teeth shown a little when she grinned. Her crystal blue eyes lingered on Miller while he spoke but then she snuck a glance at Bellamy before looking away quickly. 

Emori entered the bar from the backroom with an order pad and a pen ready. Josephine put a hand up quickly, procuring an order pad of her own from out of one of her apron pockets. "I've got this Emori, don't worry!" she assured her. Emori nodded and walked out to the dining area to pick up some empty plates, but Emori gave him a curious look as she passed. 

Josephine held up the order pad and her pen and gestured to Miller, "What can I get ya?"

Miller smiled charmingly, "Yeah, I'll just have the BLT with a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale if that's ok?"

Josephine took the pen delicately between her fingers and started scribbling furiously, concentrating on the page. 

"Are fries on the side okay?" she asked while still writing. Miller nodded easily and smiled again.

The dulcet tone of her voice makes goosebumps rise on his skin, and he listened closely, trying to memorize the cadence. Her accent was a little off too, definitely not from the midwest at least. 

Josephine hesitated before slowly looking up and meeting his eye. She held eye contact for a second before her eyes dropped down to the bar, "and for you?"

Bellamy hesitated, he hadn't thought about what he wanted he had been too busy fixating on her. How embarrassing! Bellamy turned his head and eyed Miller, "Uh, same"

Their eyes met again and she scribbled something on the notepad and then smiled, her teeth showing a bit more than before and he thought her cheeks might even be a little pinker.

"Thank you so much," Bellamy said, holding her gaze. 

Josephine nodded but hid behind a lock of hair that had fallen into her face, "Yeah I'll just put in the order... uhm, right now" she said nervously and turned to go back into the kitchen. 

Bellamy watched her go, listening to his heart beating a brisk rhythm in his chest. Miller elbowed him, "dude, you hate Pale Ale? What are you doing?" 

Bellamy cleared his thoughts and looked over at his partner sheepishly, "I drew a blank, you can have mine if you want."

Miller shook his head and laughed loudly, obviously amused at how frazzled he was feeling. Bellamy rolled his eyes and tried to peer at the television that was replaying highlights from the Mariner's game earlier on in the day. It was no use though, the minute he spotted her emerging from the back of the bar with their drinks his eyes were pulled back, consumed by her presence. 

She put the two beers down and told them the food would be out shortly, she stared at Miller as she spoke and her eyelashes fluttered when she turned to look at him, but she averted her gaze instead and went back to cleaning down at the other side of the bar. Bellamy sighed and took a sip of the beer, relishing in its bitter and unforgiving taste. He passed the rest to Miller and returned to his pattern from before. Watching the television and sneaking glances at her every chance he got. 

_Creep_ , his mind scolded. Bellamy felt his consciousness and his instinct battling in the background as he sat idly by at the bar. He was halfway through the highlights reel and was considering just leaving before the food came. What was he doing? This girl obviously wasn't interested in him, and now he was probably just making her uncomfortable. That would explain her reaction last night, she had almost looked afraid of him. He really was a creep. 

Just then Miller's phone rang and he snapped it up instantly and pulled the receiver to his ear. Bellamy couldn't make out the words on the other side, but it sounded like Jackson. Miller stood and grabbed his bag off of the ground next to their stools. Bellamy quirked a brow, wondering what could possibly be going on. After another minute Miller said goodbye to Jackson and then pulled his bag over his shoulder. Miller turned and flashed Bellamy an apologetic smile.

"That was Jackson, he's going to come to pick me up to... take me to dinner at his mother's place" Miller tried. 

Bellamy was a fucking detective for christ's sake, he saw right through this, especially considering how well he knew Miller. He scowled deeply and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "Yeah, please tell Mary I say hello then," Bellamy said cooly.

Miller rubbed the back of his neck, obviously struggling with how to pull this off, "Yep, I'll do that, and I'll see you on Tuesday!" He started to turn as if to make a run for the door.

Bellamy turned and grabbed his keys out of his pocket. There was no reason to stay without Miller there, he felt like he had only managed to make Josephine uncomfortable. Miller put a hand up, stopping him prematurely.

"Blake, what the hell are you doing?" he growled. Bellamy took out his wallet and was about to toss some bills onto the bar when Miller took it out of his hand and closed it. Bellamy looked up, beyond annoyed by his unusual behavior. 

"I'm not going to hang out at the bar all night by myself, that's pathetic," Bellamy grumbled. 

"Well, we already ordered, so at least stay and eat so the foods not wasted," Miller demanded. 

Bellamy sighed, "Well what about yours?"

Miller grinned wolfishly and his eyes flickered to the right behind where Bellamy was standing, "You're smart Blake, you'll figure it out, but I really gotta go," and then he tossed his wallet back to him.

Bellamy couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all, his shoulders shaking lightly. He watched as Miller strolled out of Grounders and down the sidewalk to the street where Jackson's Nissan was waiting. 

_He set me up,_ Bellamy'ssubconscious screams. Nothing to do about it now, he supposes. He pockets the keys to the cruiser and his wallet and turns back to the bar. He goes back to staring up at the Tv in the corner, getting caught up on all of the games over the past week. Bellamy's eyes scan the room, looking out for Josephine, but she must be in the back because Emori is out waiting tables. When Emori walks by he smiles at her and they make polite conversation for a moment, but he can tell Emori is busy. Plus, no matter how much time goes by Emori never seems to trust him, or any of the other officers that come into Grounders. Bellamy can't say he blames her, based on her history, but he knows she and Murphy are both good people no matter what. 

Just as SportsCenter cuts off into the nightly news, Josephine reemerged from the kitchen carrying two baskets of food. Her eyes rest on where Miller was sitting and then they meet his for a moment before she turns her head hiding her face from view. She places the baskets down at each barstool and goes to back away without another word, but Bellamy tells her thank you before she can disappear. 

"No problem" her voice caresses the words and Bellamy savors the sound.

She stops short and looks at the barstool next to him again, "Where did your partner go?" she asks cautiously.

"Oh, he had to go unexpectedly," Bellamy says simply. _Unexpectedly on purpose_ , he thinks...

She nods her head in understanding but then smirks, "So you got stood up essentially?"

Bellamy laughs and feigns offense, "Something like that... Now I've got to eat for two." Bellamy jokes.

He doesn't miss the way her eyes linger on the food for an extra moment, as if she's on the brink of starvation. Bellamy doesn't have time to make sense of her stare before he starts babbling and backtracking, "I'm not that hungry though, I don't know how I'm supposed to eat all this?" Bellamy smiles, trying to give her the subtle invitation. 

Josephine nods her head again, but her eyes are distant, Bellamy thinks he sees pain there. It pangs in his chest and he reaches over to slide the basket of fries over to her, hoping that will help in any capacity. Her gaze travels from the basket, up to his arm, and to his eyes again, but they lingered somewhere in the middle. Bellamy laughs forcefully, trying to keep it light, "Pleeease have some, they're so good, I'm sure you haven't even had Murphy's fries yet."

A small grin breaks through on her face and it feels all of his pain melt away, left only with the brilliance of how the smile brightens her face. He'd love to see nothing but that smile behind his eyes for as long as he lives, he thinks. In the next moment, he shudders, wondering where all of this creepy intensity came from.

"You're right, I haven't," Josephine says shyly, and she reaches forward to take one off of what would have been Miller's basket. He tries not to watch her hand as she brings a fry up to her lips. He swallows thickly and starts shoveling fries of his own. She grins wider and hums appreciatively while she chews. Bellamy feels overheated, not feverish, but just... _warm._ He remembers feeling the same way the night before, and attributing it to his jacket, he'd never felt this before. It was washing over him like waves. He broke out of his internal monologue just long enough to see Josephine sneaking a look at him. 

Bellamy smiles again, truly at ease this time. Josephine seems to lighten up, joking with him about how crazy Murphy is in the kitchen. Bellamy listens intently, loving the way gestures with her hands while she explains. In the middle of another story, she gets called away by Emori to help tend the bar and she shoots him an apologetic look before hurrying to the other side of the bar to talk with the group of guys that just entered the bar. 

Bellamy turns and surveys the restaurant, it's a sea of familiar faces, he knows basically everyone in here to some degree. He spots Tor Lemkin seated at a table by himself, reading the newspaper as he usually is this time of night, he's typically a grumpy old man that hates to be bothered, except by his daughter Reese of course. When Josephine comes by to refill his drink he tips his hat at her and Bellamy thinks he sees his lip twitch. It's not just him, everyone is entranced by her in some way or another. 

He turns back around to see Raven pulling out the stool next to him and sitting down. She explains she didn't expect to see him here since Octavia isn't working tonight. Bellamy blushes slightly but before Raven notices she immediately starts into telling him all about a 1959 Fiat Jolly she's fixing up over at Sinclair's shop. Bellamy nods along but keeps his eye on Josephine, just as he is already in the habit of doing. At one point she wanders over to their section of the bar and slides him a Manhattan. Bellamy stiffens, how did she remember? He leans down and takes a sip and it's perfectly made, just the right amount of vermouth. Raven gives him an odd look and then continues with her story, unaffected. The rest of the night is spent in this same way, it's been a while since he caught up with Raven like this, she basically lives at the auto shop and he lives at the station more and more these days. After they're both 2 or 3 drinks in she tells him that Sinclair misses him over there, and to stop by before she gets up and shrugs her coat on. 

"I've got to go meet Wick, try to stay out of trouble, okay?" Raven taunts.

Bellamy rolls his eyes, "You're still seeing him? Yuck"

Raven jabs him with her elbow and scoffs, "Don't be bitter Bell,"

Bellamy just laughs, he supposes he is sort of bitter. "You're not driving are you?" he asks, trying to summon his responsible Dad persona. 

Now Raven rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue out at him, "Cool your jets Detective Blake, I'm gonna walk down the block back to Sinclair's, is that a crime?" 

He laughs harder this time, and a bunch of his curls fall into his eyes, "No problem Reyes, I'll see you around" 

Raven gives him a small hug before slipping out of the bar and out into the dusky night. The sun had set and the dark was spreading across the sky while Bellamy had sat cooped up in the bar all night. He peered over at Josephine to see her watching him, and they both looked away, naturally. He snuck a look at the guys down at the long end of the bar. It was Gabriel and his idiotic group of buddies, they used to cause havoc in downtown Polson back in the day racking up over 20 combined drunken disorderly tickets, but they've mellowed out in the last 3 years or so. It still coined them with the name, the disciples, with Gabriel being their ring leader. Bellamy couldn't stand them, and they also didn't frequent this bar. Maybe they had finally gotten themselves kicked out of Sanctum, the gritty biker bar on the east side of Polson county. Bellamy didn't want to deal with it on his night off, more than all of that combined, he didn't want Gabriel anywhere near Josephine.

She seemed to be entertaining them at the very least, but Gabriel was looking at her with some sort of glint in his eye. Bellamy's stomach turned, and he found he was gripping the rugged edge of the bar so hard that the wound on his palm split open again. Bellamy realized he had forgotten to swing by medical back the precinct and had poorly wrapped his hand when it had happened. He swore and grabbed the napkin next to his plate, pressing it firmly into the wound to stop the bleeding. He clenched his teeth and shut his eyes when the napkin made contact, the burn incapacitating him for the moment. When he opened his eyes Josephine was standing right in front of him with wide blue eyes, staring down at his lap where the bloodied napkin lay. 

"Wha- what happened? Bellamy, are you alright?" Josephine's voice was up an octave, and she sounded pained. She reached across the bar and grabbed his wrist, the contact once again felt like a volt of electricity, and he was still reeling from hearing his name on her lips. He slowly looked up at her, once again astoundingly aware of their closeness. He was taking low shallow breaths trying not to give away the stinging in his palm. He watched as her eyes dilated the same way as the night before, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. This time she didn't pull away, she gripped his wrist closer and examined his hand. 

Bellamy watched her face as she poked and prodded his palm, it was bleeding slightly, but Bellamy didn't think it would need stitches. All he could see was her small angled chin, and her lips pressed together in a firm line as she concentrated on his wound. He had almost completely forgotten about it until it had split open. Her eyes meet his again and she looks more relieved now that she looked over it, but he can't be sure.

"Follow me," Josephine says quietly, and she let go of his palm gently. The lack of contact stung more than his hand, but he stood quickly and moved to meet her at the end of the bar. Bellamy looked around, catching sight of Gabriel watching them as they turned to walk down the hallway towards the back storage room. Bellamy felt a smug sense of satisfaction, but stamped it out immediately after reminding himself this wasn't anything, she was just helping him. She had taken his other hand this time as she led him down the hall and to the office to the right. Bellamy had been in here once before, but only with Octavia. Josephine walked behind the small desk in the room and grabbed a black hiking backpack.

Bellamy peered down inside as she unzipped it. He first thought he saw an old faded brown watch sitting on top as well as a can of... cheez whiz? Bellamy was puzzled, but when she caught him staring into the bag she zipped it up quickly after grabbing a first aid kit. She took a couple of different tools out and abruptly pushed him down into the desk chair. He sat there, shocked and slightly amused by her commanding vibe. He held his hand up to her as she pulled out some peroxide. She worked expertly, working silently the whole time. Bellamy was shocked at how simply she cleaned it out and began glazing it over with antibiotic cream and wrapping it with gauze. Josephine worked diligently for a few minutes as Bellamy watched in awe. When she finally finished she held up his hand, cupping it with her two hands as she stared at her handy work.

"You need to keep this clean and away from water, do you understand? You should probably get stitches, but I already know you're not going to do that, and I don't have a kit here with me." Josephine was stearn, but her voice was soft and the care was evident in her features. 

Bellamy peered up at her from where he was sitting in the office chair, feeling as though he was being scolded like a child. He inspected his hand and then looked back up, "Incredible... how did you know how to do that?"

Josephine chuckled and moved a strand of hair from her face, "Oh stop, it was simple-"

Bellamy stopped her short and snorted, "Could you honestly have stitched me up?"

She shrugged nonchalantly and looked down at their hands, which were still intermingled, "It's no big deal, I was pre-med"

Bellamy's mind erupted, the mystery of her suddenly even more veiled than he had previously thought. 

"Whoa really? Where did you study?" Bellamy found himself asking. 

Josephine stilled, and then pulled her hand away from his and began to stand up, "Oh I... never finished."

Bellamy stood too, not understanding her abrupt change in tone. She opened the door for him and they both walked back out to the bar and tables. He wanted to ask more about what that meant, but it was obviously a sore subject. The bar was still half full and the tables were moderately packed. Emori was scrambling to take orders and refill drinks. Josephine dashed behind the bar to try to catch up. Bellamy felt hurt as if the last 5 minutes had been forgotten entirely.

He sat idly and finished the last of his Manhattan while he thought over everything. When he looked down the bar. She had been watching him with a blank look on her face, her mind obviously worlds away as well. When he continued staring at her she eventually snapped out of it and smiled at him. It was genuine, and he felt like he saw a glimpse of the heart he had seen the night before and just five minutes ago. It was almost enough to soothe the mystery itching at his mind, almost.

The restaurant side slowed down shortly after and Murphy finally escaped from the kitchen in the back. It wasn't unusual for him to sneak out the back exit and smoke a cigarette after a rush. Bellamy stood suddenly and moved to go out with him, Murphy peered over his shoulder and then gave him a friendly nod, inviting him out. Bellamy bristled against the cold air in the autumn Montana night outside, but Murphy didn't seem to care at all. Murphy lit his cigarette and offered Bellamy one, but Bellamy shook his head. 

"I quit," Bellamy reminded him.

"Whatever Blake," Murphy said as he took a long drag, "What's up then?"

Bellamy cleared his throat and felt his detective mask slip on, "I need you to tell me everything you know about Josephine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what did you guys think? Please leave me a comment or kudos down below I'd love to hear your thoughts! You can also come see me on tumblr @bellamy-blaking
> 
> Also, I don't know if I ever mentioned this, but I have a spotify playlist that is inspired by this fic... Check it out here!  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3eDXQyxnUNZeXv544RqpMN?si=5htPs1Z8TtWWraeET15gZA
> 
> Fun Fact! Tor Lemkin was the man from season 1 on the Ark who gave his life during the oxygen shortages in the episode "Twilights Last Gleaming" he was always one of my favorite minor characters in the show!
> 
> If you guys ever want to make mood boards, suggest songs, or make any art related to this story that would be wonderful!!


End file.
